Little Bits

This may be my last post from Thailand. What a wild trip it's been, just packed with colors and insanity. There are many little things here that I'm not sure I've mentioned.

You can buy fresh-squeezed orange juice right off the street, did I mention that? They bottle it for you and it's the perfect mix of sweet and tang.

There are dogs everywhere, just like in Central America, although most of the ones I've seen are happy and well-fed, unlike in Central America. Although a good many are mangy and sticky with Bangkok grime. They're never kept on leashes, and patrol the street or the beachfront, whichever they claim as their territory. I've seen a number of dogfights when these invisible lines are breeched. It's interesting to watch. The dogs are half wild pack animals and half beloved pets. I wonder what would happen if I threw Sky in the mix. He's probably be chewed up in minutes.

Every restaurant, shop, and most homes have their own altar, shaped like a tiny temple. They're usually garish, gilded and painted bright colors, draped in fresh flower wreaths. The figurines inside vary. I've seen tiny men and women, rotund Buddhas, slim and handsome Buddhas, and pictures of the king and queen. On the platform before the shrines food is set out daily: bananas, noodle soup, bottles of Fanta soda with straws for ease in sipping. Usually whatever is set out swarms with ants. Once I even saw a cat surreptitiously slurping from an offering bowl.

In Koh Samui there was a place where quite a few such altars were clustered beside the main road. Whenever a car or motorbike sped by, they gave their horn a honk. There and only there, some kind of sign of respect. Honk if you love Buddha.

Everything here is Same Same, But Different. That's what all the merchants say. They even have shirts that say that.

There are tailors selling Armani knockoffs custom-made spotted through the tourist areas, all dealing out of nice, air-conditioned shops. At last Bryson broke down and allowed himself to be fitted for a suit. It's grey with faint pinstripes, Italian wool and cashmere, and he looks damn sexy in it if I do say so myself. The guys who made it were Indian and Burmese. Thus, it's a Thai Italian Indian Burmese suit. Can you beat that?

Speaking of Indians, the Indian food here is superb, and I've developed a real taste for it. More than just curry. I love the paneer, which is homemade cheese, baked in a whole wheat tandoori roti.

The cats here all have gimpy tails. It's as if a few tail-less manxes bred into the mix somehow. They range from stubby jokes to thick knobby nightmares, though the cats themselves are cuties. They also like to munch on enormous Thai bugs like spiders and cockroaches.

When I worked as a server at Red Robin, we were required to drop a table's check before the first person had finished their last bite. It's was all about turnover, hustle and bustle. Here they never, never, never drop your check unless you ask for it. They allow you to sit and enjoy yourself as long as you want, no rush. But in all the Thai shops, there's always someone following you around, eagerly quoting a price for anything you even show a smidgen of interest in. I absolutely despise it, actually. I hate being pressured, and if someone is following me too closely or pushing too adamantly, I'll leave the shop entirely. It's not that I don't understand; they're trying to make a living. But let me breathe, okay?

There's a pigeon family living outside our bathroom window. The children are obnoxious, hooting querulously far too early in the morning, but I wish them well. When I was little the gardener knocked a swallow's nest off our wall. We found the crushed babies on the ground, a tragedy. You can never trust people where compassion is concerned.

There's one smoothie cart on Soi Rambuttri claiming, on a big yellow sign, that they offer smoothies with "Safe Ice for Delicate Foreign Digestions." I love it. I love Thailand.